Troubled
by Author of Sin
Summary: Matthew knew he was in danger if he kept on pursuing Gilbert, but he couldn't stop himself from being so intrigued by the very man whom had saved him that one fateful night. [PruCan Yaoi, AU, Adult Scenes] - Rated M for sex and violence!
1. Prologue

**A/N: T this story was inspired by the German movie, "The Princess and the Warrior". It's quite weird, and I had only watched it one night when I had the TV to myself, but in the end it intrigued me; so 'tis a recommended movie. c:**

**Anywho, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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**Prologue**

Matthew William's eyes hurt so much they had watered a little. It felt as if a hammer was pounding at his head. Nausea was crawling inside of him. He had just wanted to get back to Francis' rental apartment and let the older male take care of him. He was obviously in no condition to work his night shift at the hospital.

With a shaky sigh, he slowed the car down at the red light, looking around the empty streets of Frankfurt, Germany. Sure it was late, about 10pm, but he wondered why there wasn't anybody around. Usually there was always a couple or a group of people still heading out to the night clubs to get wasted and/or laid for the night.

Winding the window down, Matthew stuck his head out, looking up at the sky to see no stars – the heavy droplets of rain hitting his soft, pink face. That's when he thought maybe the rain influenced people to stay inside and have a movie night. That sounded almost _perfect_ to the Canadian. Ever since moving to Germany last week, he hadn't been able to spend much time with Francis, or even meet his friends. What's a better way than to indirectly hang out with others when watching a movie and eating too many sweets? It was perfect for a person as shy as him.

The thought had captivated him, thinking about what type of sweets they could have, and without even realising it the rain water that streamed down his face had caused Matthew's glasses to slip off his nose and fall onto the bitumen road. He cursed inwardly, realising one of the lens had cracked, before ducking his head back in and opening the door to retrieve it. Leaning down, however, he noticed an almost blinding light from down the road. Having to squint his lavender eyes and hold a hand in front of his face, Matthew went to go see what it was – before hearing the familiar sound of a truck beeping its horn.

"Mon Dieu," he whispered hastily, abandoning his glasses and getting back in his car to try and drive out of the way. He was about to take a turn to the right, but the semi-trailer had clipped his tail, causing both vehicles to spin out of control. Due to his lack of eyesight and being spun at a high rate, Matthew was practically blind. He tried to regain control of the wheel again, but his vehicle was slammed into pole. Because he didn't have time to put his seatbelt on again, his body was flung through the windscreen, landing onto the cold, hard road with an, 'oomph'. Scratches and bruises littered his pale skin now, the containers from the truck that had hit him bouncing along the ground before smashing into his car, tipping it over so it landed upside down just above him. Any friction between the car and the pole that was now knocked over, Matthew knew he'd be crushed. But he still wasn't exactly entirely safe just because he was small enough to have not been hit. Surely, Matthew was no expert when it came to engineering, but he knew that a car that had been tipped upside down isn't exactly the safest thing ever. He had his fair share of movies. So, although he felt so numb and dizzy, the Canadian forced himself to crawl away from the danger, flinching each time a piece of glass was pushed into the palms of his hands, his forearms or even his stomach.

"D-Dammit…," he cursed, the rain from the sky still coming down on him. He stopped crawling for a moment, only about a meter or two away from his vehicle, before looking up to see what had happened to the truck. Although everything was a blur to him, he could still make out his surroundings… just. The truck was tipped onto its side after it had smashed into a building. Fire erupted from it and burnt its surroundings, and soon Matthew's car lit up as well – making everything seem more like hell as the colours red, orange and black filled his vision.

Matthew sincerely thought with all his heart that he was going to _die. _And that was the last thing he wanted to do. So with every ounce of strength he still had in his bones, the Canadian forced himself to stand up slowly and shakily. Immediately he knew he had a broken rib, because with each little movement it felt like someone was driving a stake through him.

Taking a deep breath, he took a weak step, before collapsing onto his knees with a scream of pain. His knee cap had been popped from landing on it so wrong when he went through the windscreen of his car. It literally rendered him from being able to escape his death.

Despite everything already being a blur, Matthew began to felt dizzy. He was bleeding all over his body, so he must have been losing _way_ too much blood…

He reached in front of him, as if he was expecting a hand to grab his own, but instead he fell onto his stomach again and laid in hopelessness. If this was going to be the cause of his death, then so be it. Matthew was satisfied with his life, in a way. He wasn't a great hero; he didn't do great things in his life. Hell, he was usually invisible to anyone and was too shy to make friends. But the friends he did make, he cherished with all his heart… Matthew loved them, and they loved him. That makes him someone, right?

"Of… course…," he whispered, his breathing beginning to become shallow. However suddenly, he was carefully rolled over onto his side as strong arms picked him up bridal style. Peaking his violet eyes open, Matthew could just make out who picked him up. He was a tall man with silvery, white hair… Rather strange looking, if Matthew was being honest…

But he couldn't think much anymore, let alone focus on the very person who was carrying him away from the danger. He just wanted to… _to sleep…_

And that's exactly what he had done when he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

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**A/N: I must confess, I've never written this pairing before, and I rarely read/write Hetalia fanfictions. So please excuse any faults. I will try and get the first chapter up as soon as possible.**

**Favourite, follow, review?**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: So the story begins here! Since I am making this up on the spot without any prior planning, there may be other minor pairings… as you'll find out in the chapter below. Anywho, enjoy!**

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Francis leant forward, placing his chin on top of Antonio's head who sat on the floor in front of the sofa – hugging him from behind with his legs spread so the Spaniard could sit there in the first place. Sneaking his slender hands beneath the other's shirt, he gently rubbed at Antonio's chest as he'd occasionally drive his fingernails into the tanned flesh, not really noticing how touchy-feely he had become since his eyes were glued onto the TV. It wasn't as if he was paying attention, anyways, he was just caught up in his own thoughts…

He was thinking about Matthew and how he should be coming home soon in a couple of hours… unless, of course, he didn't need to work his night shift. The Canadian would then go for a short, cold shower and slip into bed quietly, sometimes not even making a single noise for him or Antonio to hear. Despite that, Francis always did notice Matthew's presence, so maybe it wasn't required for him to stay up late and make sure the other blond got home safely anymore. Like a good big brother, he was concerned the first couple of days, but as time went by he noticed that Matthew had been coming home safely without a scratch. Plus, there had been so much sexual tension between Francis and Antonio lately; he didn't think the Spaniard would be able to last any longer.

Silence lingered before the two as Francis shifted his gaze down at the man before him – however it was broken when Antonio sighed heavily, causing Francis to pull away as he moved himself so he was on his knees and facing the other.

"I'm only staying here for one more week and this is how you decide to waste our time?" Antonio asked rhetorically, a small smile on his lips. "I was hoping you'd be a little more, I don't know… _fun?_"

"Hm… am I hinting something?" Francis replied, spreading his legs a little wider as he leant back in his seat, narrowing his sharp, blue eyes down at the Spaniard. Antonio couldn't help but shudder with anticipation – oh how that look turned him on every time. So with a curl to his lips, Antonio moved a little closer as he undone the belt to Francis' pants, soon pulling the denim down a little so he could retrieve what he was wanting to get his mouth on. As his palm gently massaged the blond's arousal through his briefs, he spoke once more, "I thought it was you hinting something when you kept on touching me, Francis," Antonio chuckled softly, before looking up at his boyfriend with large, hazel eyes that spilt _innocence_, "Doesn't this make you happy?"

Francis chewed the inside of his lip. How could Antonio act so damn innocent and cute at a time like this? However, he knew for _sure_ the Spaniard was nothing of innocence. He was just as dirty as the blond when it came to sex, even going as far as to asking for toys to be used on him and for the two to bedroom role play. It wasn't as if Francis minded, anyways. It only spiced up their sex life.

"Ngh… It makes a _very_ happy, Antonio…," the blond finally replied, his voice deep and husky that was enough to send any girl screaming their heads off from fangirling. "Hmm… why don't you be a good boy and make me feel even better, oui?" Francis had said that just as he placed one hand on the back of Antonio's head, gesturing him closer to his crotch. Antonio had only laughed softly, nodding before saying a soft, "Si!" and then retrieving Francis' semi-erect arousal from the closure of his briefs. The blond watched in what seemed like slow-motion as the pink folds of Antonio's lips parted slightly, kissing the head of his hardening arousal ever so softly. He then felt the Spaniard trailing his tongue along the shaft – knowing that the instant salty taste of pre-cum hit his tastebuds.

Francis could only moan in delight as a reaction to such lustful actions, before allowing the hand that was at the back of Antonio's head to fist a handful of hair and tug gently. He closed his eyes and rolled his head back when he could feel Antonio lap his tongue at the shaft as if it were ice-cream, fondling with the blond's ball sac in the palm of his hand. Finally, to Francis' pleasure, the Spaniard soon took it in his mouth; sucking on the sac and tugging on it slightly whilst his hand went back up to slowly run up and down the blond's erection.

"Mm, Antonio… you always make me _so_ hard…," Francis whispered, still taking dominance as he pulled the tanned other's head away from his arousal, causing the Spaniard to moan gently in delight from having a certain forcefulness over him.

With his free hand, Francis gripped the base of his dick and guided it towards Antonio's mouth, forcing the smaller man to enclose his lips around the swollen head, before slowly pushing him down on his hard-on as he was taken whole. The blond felt the soft jab of his head hit the back of Antonio's throat, hearing no gag as the Spaniard had been trained, causing both males to moan deeply at such euphoria. Sucking the slightest, as if it was his first taste, Antonio came back up the Francis' shaft before taking him deep in his mouth again. A mixture of saliva and pre-cum came from the corner of his mouth and dribbled down his chin, but neither of the two seemed to notice as Antonio made it his top priority to make his boyfriend cum.

Occasionally grazing his teeth along the hardened shaft of Francis' (who was now all moans) dick, Antonio hollowed his cheeks out and sucked harder with a skilful tongue that made patterns along the underbelly. Thrusting his hips upwards for more friction, Francis allowed an extra loud moan to rip from his lungs as he could feel the blood in his veins rushing to his dick. He was going to cum, and so very soon. He was at his peak – flames coated his body, everything went white, and –

_Brrringggg! _

"A-Ahhh!" Francis moaned loudly, throwing his head back and connecting with the wall as he shot some of his seed into Antonio's mouth – both males startled from the sudden ringing of the home phone. Since Antonio fell back from such surprise, he was met with stray strings of cum coming onto his face. He coughed in response, choking only the littlest before he swallowed some of the seed Francis had shot into his mouth.

"_Putain…_," Francis cursed, his chest rising and falling heavily with each pant as he rubbed the back of his head, leaning forward to watch as Antonio savoured the taste of some of the cum he did receive, also cleaning off his face one time. To Antonio, it was _sweet_; and definitely one of the Spaniard's favourite treat. "Are you okay?"

Antonio laughed softly, nodding, "Si, I'm okay. What about you? It seemed like you hit your head hard," he didn't wait for a response however as he stood up and went to the phone that kept on ringing, even after the times it went to message bank.

Francis could only pout, as he realised what this meant – the mood was killed; dead. Looks like there was no ass for the blond, sadly…

Standing back up, Francis pulled his jeans back onto his legs as he did up the belt once more, allowing the hem of his white dress to fall over it a little. He continued to fix his hair up a little and tie it in a low pony tail as it was messed up from rubbing against the couch and then the _wall_ thanks to Antonio's excellent tongue skills. However, his attention was taken away when said Spaniard came rushing back in with a flash of panic embedded across his features.

"M-Matthew was i-in an accident! He was coming home early for some reason, and now he's in hospital… b-but he's not conscious!" Antonio suddenly rambled out, his hands shaking from what seemed like _fear._ And that's the exact emotion Francis could feel, soon beginning to _hate_ his very being for ever thinking that Matthew would be safe.

* * *

_Where was I…?_

_Everything was dark. I felt like I was falling, or to better put it, floating…_

_I eventually peeked my eyes open, realising I was in a realm of nothingness. I decided I had to get out of here – I didn't want to be nothing… So I tried to move forward, but my limbs felt restricted against me like I was in a pile of tar, despite the fact that I felt so light._

_Just… where was I?_

_I called out the names of loved ones for a moment, hoping that one of them would take my hand and pull me out. However no one came to my rescue, even though I was pinned to helplessness. I was alone; I'd always have been alone._

_Am I going to vanish into nothing…?_

_I didn't want to disappear from this world… I wanted to stay. I want to make new friends; help new people; find new love. God, give me one more chance… Let me change someone's life; let me be as bright and well-known as my little brother. Please…_

_As if on cue, an orb of light appeared in front of me. I moved towards it, going against all rules of 'do not go towards the light'. Eventually, I reached it, and I felt the sudden hit of life meet my very body._

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With a deep intake of breath, Matthew shot up from where he lay in the hospital bed. Nurses rushed around, the doctor exclaiming, "Er wach, er wach!" before barking orders at his assistants to get all sorts of things. He then leant down towards Matthew, placing a hand on his chest and slowly guiding him down to lie on his back again.

"Wie fühlst du dich?" the doctor asked, the blond looking at him large, scared eyes. With so much pain and aching in his head he couldn't really concentrate and remember the German he had learnt, and he only felt more scared when the doctor continued with, "Verstehen Sie mich?" soon followed by some other German phrases that Matthew _really_ couldn't pick up right now.

Even if Matthew was able to find his German words, a nurse came around to attend to his side that was dampened a deep red, almost black colour. He soon slowly began to find his bearings. His t-shirt was cut open and there was a bandage wrapped around the pale of his torso. His body was connected to machines that pumped blood into him and kept a steady record his heartbeat.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep…_

That's all Matthew could hear as he began to zone out once more. As he was being cleaned up, his violet eyes looked past the rushing nurses and demanding doctor to find someone standing outside of the room. His red eyes gleamed in the low-lit light, his hair a cool, silvery colour. The man had a couple of cuts along his eyebrow and arms, and his white-collared shirt was almost _drenched_ in blood. Matthew knew who that man was – he was the one that carried the Canadian to safety. However, he didn't know if that was his or the other's blood drenching the albino's clothing.

His attention was taken away suddenly when the doctor placed his hand softly over Matthew's popped kneecap with a gentle, rough tone to his voice, "Das wird ein wenig weh." The Canadian picked up on the words, having to brace himself for pain as the nurses left so there was only one for support. She had gotten a towel for Matthew, telling him to bite down on it, as he done so.

With a sharp intake of breath through his nose, he tightly shut his eyes and immediately groaned loudly from the massive amount of pain he felt with the doctor pushed down on his dislocated knee cap. "Mmrrrf!" he moaned, it being muffled from the towel as tears immediately began to stream down his face. He thrusted his head back, his hand reaching out to hold the nurse's as he squeezed greatly. However his other hand was picked up and held, too, but he hadn't noticed when he arched his back.

"Wir sind fast da," the voice from the second hand said with a soft whisper, Matthew letting out a scream that ripped from his lungs when he felt his kneecap popped back into place. The towel fell onto his lap, and his fingernails by now had been digging into the hands he had held.

"Ça fait mal... ça fait vraiment mal...," Matthew whispered in French, expressing how much pain he felt and that it was _a lot. _"I-It hurts; I can't deal with this…"

His eyes remained shut as he sobbed a little, more tears streaming down his face that had gone pink from the excessive amount of crying and pain.

"I-I just want to go home, _please_ let me go home," he then pleaded, opening his eyes and staring at the nurse who was a little dumbfounded – obviously not knowing fluent English. "I'm sorry for bothering you, but _please._"

"You'll be okay," a voice with a thick German accent said that was not belonging to the doctor since he had gone around the back to make some plaster for the cast. "Ze awesome Gilbert is here to look after you, I already have done so this far."

Matthew turned his head to find that the albino man didn't end up leaving, but instead came to give even _more_ support. It scared the Canadian a little – not once has he ever felt such kindness and care over him. It was always Alfred getting the attention, so all Matthew had was Kumajiro, his polar bear plush toy that he had since he was a child. Often Matthew talked to Kumajiro as friends, and he would always image his furry friend speak back to him – but he, too, like everyone else always questioned, "Who are you?"

The nurse and the albino-looking man exchanged words, Matthew picking up on "cast", "couple of hours", "guardian" and so on and so forth. That's when he remembered Francis and his boyfriend he had sort of met, Antonio. Did the two find out about him? If Matthew still had his wallet on him, maybe hopefully the receptionist had called his home number to inform Francis and Antonio what happened, just so they wouldn't be worried sick for the Canadian not returning home. Even in such a situation like this, Matthew would still be sorry for causing bother to his loved ones.

Hours went by, and the doctor and his nurse spent the time aiding to Matthew's wounds and putting a knee brace on his leg instead of an old-fashioned cast, just so the Canadian would be able to get around easier. He was now completely shirtless, except for the bandages that was wrapped around his torso to support his fractured rib, as his blood-drenched clothing was thrown out. The Canadian felt that he could only take short, sharp breaths as it hurt to breathe, but after taking some painkillers he was able to rest comfortably, still holding the man's hand gently. The stranger was also tended to, the nurse switching on the TV that was located in the corner of the room before exiting with the doctor – papers in hand.

"So… who are you?" Matthew asked, finding it ironic for him to be asking that question since he was usually asked it. "Why did you save me? You could have died…"

There was silence for a moment, and Matthew could feel the man's fingers tense a little, before he eventually replied, "Gilbert Beilschmidt is my awesome name." Matthew was waiting for the so-called "Gilbert" to say more, but he didn't, and the Canadian was left half unanswered.

Shuffling over a little, only wincing in pain slightly from moving his bones, Gilbert crawled into the bed next to him – his red, almost purple, eyes glued onto the TV; his fine, white hairs lay against the pillow gently; and his thick, silver eyelashes almost glistening in the light. Gilbert's pale skin was smooth and clear, and Matthew couldn't help but reach over and hug the man's arm close to him – getting as much body warm as he can. With his chin against the other's shoulder, Matthew drifted his eyes close, before asking again, "Why did you save me, Gilbert? Was it because it was just a humanely thing to do?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak when the voices of two familiar men entered the room – Francis and Antonio.

"Mon cher! Comment ca va? Je suis tellement contente que tu vas bien!" Francis began to break out, all in a mixture of overwhelming joy that his dear Matthew didn't suffer _too_ much injury. "Je suis désolé de ne pas vérifier sur vous!"

With that said, the Frenchman had left Antonio behind at the door, approaching Matthew and leaning down to kiss both sides of his face before hugging him gently. All the Canadian could do was blush softly at the realisation that people _did_ care about him, laughing awkwardly as he hugged the other back.

"Don't worry," he replied, looking up at Francis with large violet eyes that were a little puffy and red from his previous crying and sobbing. "Gilbert here carried me out of danger, and he took me here. If it wasn't for him, I'd most likely be dead."

"G-Gilbert?! Mon Dieu, I didn't even notice you there!" Francis replied, Antonio joining his boyfriend and holding his hand softly as he continued, "You're really good at blending in just as you are at standing out, Gil. Why are you so quiet though?"

Matthew felt the muscles in Gilbert's shoulder tense once more. He soon began to wonder if the other was okay at all, or if he was usually like this. So he turned his head to open his mouth and call the other's name but was cut off when Francis butted in, "How's Elizabeta?"

And that was what seemed to set Gilbert off.

"_Great," _he said sternly, obviously holding back a mixture of anger and complete distraught. "She's _great._"

With that said, he removed himself from next to Matthew on the hospital bed, but all four men's heads were turned to the TV when a broadcast began to show. The woman, speaking in the country's native tongue, explained what had happened hours earlier – the crash that Matthew was in. The police were investigating the scene and had retrieved some belongings that weren't destroyed in the fire of the car and the truck. A picture of Gilbert's picture from his driver's license soon screened, asking that if anyone had saw the suspect who was most likely responsible for being the man behind the wheel of the truck, to report to the police.

Matthew could feel the fear grab at his throat, and the confusion only made him dizzy. Who was this Elizabeta that Gilbert seemed so defensive about? Could she have been the cause of Gilbert driving like a complete maniac on the road? Why did Gilbert save him, then?

"Gilbert?" Antonio asked, his large hazel eyes glued to the TV alongside Francis' and Matthew's. But before he could even ask anything or get an indication that Gilbert was willing to speak, the albino muttered a quick, "I have to go" and bolted from the room – not once looking back at his two friends and the Canadian who he took so much care of. Silence lingered for a moment, it almost thick enough that Matthew thought he could cut through it with a butter knife. However, the silence was interrupted when the Spaniard continued since both blond's didn't know what to say, "Something's not right… something's wrong with Gilbert."

"Shall we take the initiative to talk to… to L-Ludwig?" Francis stuttered, obviously saying that with a soft hint of fear embedded in his usually alluring voice. "It's late; do you think he'll be awake?"

"Waiting for Gilbert, most likely si," Antonio replied, getting his phone out of his pocket and soon dialling a number. "Let's go, amor. We need to see what's going on between Gilbert and Elizabeta; we need to see if he really did cause that awful accident."

He didn't wait up as he quickly left the room, Matthew's eyes darting around frantically, before saying softly, "W-Wait, I want to come. Don't leave me, _please."_

Francis sighed softly, before leaning down and kissing the middle of the other blond's forehead.

"I'll be back first thing in the morning, I promise," he replied, looking extremely guilty for having to leave the gentlest person in the world, behind and all alone, knowing that's how Matthew grew up. He didn't want to leave the Canadian in fear of him getting in danger or hurt again, but he had to go with Antonio to come to the end of this. He _had_ to find out if that Gilbert hurt his dearest. "Je t'aime, mon cher. I'll be back soon."

Matthew paused for a moment, feeling as if he was about to cry, but he held his emotions back as he nodded in acceptance and replied, "Je t'aime aussi…"

Francis gave him one last kiss on the forehead before exiting the room, leaving Matthew to roll into a ball as he laid on his side – small hands covering his face as he began to cry a little. Oh how he _wanted_ and _needed_ Kumajiro. The Canadian didn't think he'd be able to get through the night without his furry friend. He was alone… again. And yet, he wasn't so concerned about himself because he was used to it, he was more concerned for the man who had saved him… although he may have been the cause of hurting him, also.

Damn… Just what the hell was going on?

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**A/N: I can't really type accents hence why Gilbert isn't all "zis" "vhat" "zhat", etc. so I apologise for any inconvenience. Also, I got the German translation from Google translate, so it may not be entirely right if you're a German speaker. I only speak a little French, not very fluent, so I excuse for any mistakes in my French as well.**

**Also, I'll be in Japan over the holidays (which is in a week-and-a-bit's time), so I won't be able to do any typing if I decide to leave my laptop at home. So I will try and get the next chapter up before my flight if I'm not too busy with getting my final essays done.**

**Anywho, thanks for sticking by me this far! (:**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yeah, okay, so this was A LOT shorter than my previous chapter, but I wanted to publish something before leaving! So… enjoy. (:**

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Rays of sunlight beamed through the close blinds of Matthew's hospital room, causing the certain blond to rouse from his sleep. The television that was left on last night was now switched off, he could hear the faint conversation of nurses and patients alike and there was the occasional sound of phone's ringing.

Sitting up groggily in his place, Matthew had flinched only the slightest from the pain that throbbed in his side. Though, he soon sucked it up and told himself that all he could do was to take pain killers. It'd take three to six weeks to heal, anyways, and from his education in the field of health – he knew how to look after himself. He sort of had to, anyways. He was invisible to practically everyone, so he wouldn't be surprised if the doctors and nurses had forgotten him also.

Plus, Francis wasn't back yet…

Getting up and out of his hospital bed, Matthew exited his room with only a small limp from the brace that was around his knee for support. Thankfully, he could walk like any normal person, because he decided that he'd find Gilbert's records in the back office and get information as to where he lives so Matthew _himself_ can give him a visit.

The walls that the Canadian leant against were cold against the skin of his back, and he wore practically nothing except for the black, skinny jeans that hugged his slender legs. Everything else was either thrown out due to destruction or being soaked in blood.

"How may I help you?" a voice asked, Matthew immediately getting chills as he turned to look where the voice came from. To his fortune, the nurse was talking to another patient that was wondering the walls. So, the blond turned back around and made it to the front desk of the hospital. Crouching down low behind the desk, he snuck around and to the back without gaining any alert from the ladies that were currently taking calls or writing up documents. He made it to a file cabinet that was labelled 'records', and he soon opened it and browsed the information in there.

Although there was a chance Gilbert's record wasn't going to be in here, Matthew thought there would be a chance. The albino was involved in care last night, although it was only little, but the Canadian knew that everything was to be kept record of.

Suddenly, Matthew exclaimed quietly to himself, "Le voilà!"as he retrieved the mystery-man's documents. Opening it, checking his surroundings to make sure no one would come around; the blond soon began to read it.

"He's been here once or twice before…," Matthew mumbled to himself. "Broken arm, concussion… wow, even self-mutilation…" he paused for a moment, his stomach churning a little at the thought of the fair-haired male hurting himself on purpose. Or, really, was it on purpose? Shaking his head free of thoughts, he continued to read on. The documents beared information of how Gilbert had always been in a fight or accident whenever he came to the hospital. Matthew soon then to begin to wonder what his police records would say…

"Ah," he said silently to himself once more, reading Gilbert's about. His full name was Gilbert Beilschmidt. His birthday was on the 18th of January, and he's in his early 20s. He also reaches the height of 5"9, or more precisely, 177cm. Oh, and he lived with a man named Ludwig – the man that Francis mentioned last night. Could he be Gilbert's father, or maybe his brother…?

Though the thoughts soon left his mind as a small smile formed on Matthew's lips when his eyes lay upon Gilbert's address. Not too far from here, he didn't think. He could get there in time before the albino decided to flee the city.

* * *

_She looked at him with angry eyes – slender fingers tightening their grip around the handle of the fry-pan she held. Her locks fell gracefully around her small shoulders, tears soon streaking her flushed face._

"_Gehen Sie weg!" she called out, the words piercing his heart. He didn't want to go away. He didn't do anything wrong. In fact, he was the one that was cheated on and lied to, but his love for the woman was just too much._

_They were about to get married. He proposed to her and she said __**yes. **__If she didn't love him, wouldn't she have just said no?_

_Yet, he still couldn't get that image of his beloved on top of another man out of his mind. And it wasn't just __**any **__man; a stupid aristocrat that he had actually grown fond .For some reason he couldn't hate the other man, or even hate his once-future wife. He felt like he just had to accept that the other two truly loved each other and that he was left out on the side lines. _

_Well, he was always like that, anyways. Sometimes he wasn't even recognised of his true blood, and that – that – really made him sad. No one ever chased him; no one ever acknowledged him; no one ever cared for him. He was alone, but he preferred it that way because he's always thought clustering with others was for the weak. Well, he didn't really think of that until now; not until was heart was shattered into a million pieces._

_Was there really any hope for someone like Gilbert Beilschmidt?_

* * *

"Hello?" Matthew said softly, but soon shook his head as he remembered he was in Germany and should probably speak with its official language, before knocking on the front door with a louder, "Guten tag!"

He was greeted with silence, and the very thought of that made the Canadian cringe in annoyance a little. Usually he wouldn't have, but since it had it had taken him a couple of hours to come here – not because it was far away from the middle of town, but because he had gone home to clean himself up, take some painkillers and to put on better and more suitable clothing – it did. Well, he didn't know if it was really 'suitable' clothing anyways; he just wore skinny jeans, converse shoes and an over-sized jumper with a maple leaf on the front. It looked like something he'd wear in the comfort of his own home.

Oh well, it was who he was… and he was Matthew Williams.

Running a hand through his blond, wavy tresses, the Canadian walked around the silent house to the back – having to get on his tip-toes just to peek over the top of the brown, wooden fence that was a little mossy from the wet weather.

The grass was even greener here, and there were puddles about _everywhere._ He wouldn't have been surprised if it rains again – the sky was overcast as sheen of grey took over everything. Too bad he didn't have an umbrella with him, but Matthew didn't seem to mind in the end. Instead, he just opened up the fence of the gate (which was surprisingly unlocked, most likely indicating someone was home) before slowly and quietly sticking to the walls of Gilbert's home and making it out to the back. Stopping at the corner, he turned his head and found the man who he was looking for, standing alongside someone who looked like he was a part of the army.

The other man was extremely tall. The black singlet he wore really brought out his arms that were thickened with muscle, obviously from excessive weight training. He wore an army-looking cap that was the same colour as his pants – a deep, khaki green. His outfit was finished off with padded gloves, a – what Matthew could make out – dog tag around his neck, and black combat boots that finished half-way up the other's shin. His hair was blond and gelled back, to what it seemed, and sweat with a mixture of the light rain drops coated his body.

However, the tall man suddenly lashed out at Gilbert, Matthew feeling an immediate jolt of fear tear through him. Thankfully Gilbert was able to push back against the taller man's fist with his own hand, but that still didn't necessarily mean he was okay in the Canadian's opinion.

"S-Stop!" he called out, coming out from his hiding spot as he ran towards the two. However, the ground beneath his feet gave way as he slid and landed in a dirty puddle, causing both males to turn their heads and look down at him strangely. Matthew mumbled something beneath his breath, before slowly standing up. However, before he was even on his feet, he was tackled to the ground by the very blond he observed was attacking Gilbert not even a minute prior. That's when a deep pain tore through the Canadian, and he took in a sharp breath as he rolled his head back with a loud groan. The man that was levered above him had practically smashed his thick, muscled body into Matthew's smaller frame, making him land uncomfortably which caused his side with the broken ribs to practically scream in pain.

"Aufstehen, West," Gilbert said, pulling the other male away by his shoulder as he demanded him to get off of the Canadian. The blond's piercing blue eyes stared at Matthew – who was currently wincing in an excessive amount of pain and rendered short of breath – before he eventually stood up and patted his clothing.

"Who is he?" the blond asked in a thick German accent, allowing Matthew to finally roll over as he clutched his aching side like a hurt animal trying to flee from threats, occasionally coughing from being so short of breath. "Is he an acquaintance of yours? I thought he was an intruder. You need to stop being irresponsible and tell me when you're having guests over."

"Well you should know anyways, because the awesome me is always have guests coming over!" Gilbert replied enthusiastically, looking as if that act wasn't fake… even if it wasn't a fake to begin with.

"C-Can I just… speak… to you?" Matthew asked, his hand still clutching at his side that throbbed almost tormentingly. However, he wasn't even given an answer when the taller man that wore the army outfit hauled him up onto his feet by his arm. All the blond could do was look at him with scared, violet eyes – wincing gently from the feeling of an extra tightness around his rather thin bicep.

"Who are you?" the one who currently apprehended him asked, Matthew casting his eyes to look at Gilbert, before moving them back. "I-I'm Matthew Williams…"

"West, verpiss dich," the albino said, moving towards the two blonds as he placed his hand upon Matthew's waist in a comforting manner. "He's… a friend; I guess you can say…"

The taller and rather seemingly meaner German – in Matthew's accounting – narrowed his bright blue eyes in a rather threatening fashion before eventually releasing him. Surely, Matthew had always known that Germans had that 'seriousness' stereotype about them, but this one really lived up to it.

"Brother, you know we can't have guests, yet alone friends," the other replied, not once tearing his gaze away from Matthew. By now, Matthew could really feel the fear eating him up on the inside, grabbing at his throat and making his bones almost shake with nervousness. He didn't want to get hit, or anything. Hell, even just being in the German's presence was enough to freak him out. Was he always like this? Hopefully not… "I'll be in my office."

With that said, the blond turned on his heels and made his way towards the wooden, tall house before taking his dirty boots off to leave outside and disappearing through the door – not a single whisper leaving his lips.

Matthew exhaled deeply, finally allowing himself to breathe as he had seemed to forgotten to do so when the other was so up in his face with a threatening and definitely scary aura.

"Entschuldigung," Gilbert said, apologising as Matthew felt a faint blush spread across his cheeks from having the albino's hand sneak around his waist a little further. However, he soon pulled away so the two could look at each other to engage in conversation. "That's Ludwig, he's my little brother. Don't mind him; he's always been too serious. He just can't seem to be as awesome as me."

He broke off with a cocky laugh, Matthew also laughing softly beneath his breath. Soon after, however, the blond cleared his throat as he pushed his lenses up his nose before replying with, "Gilbert, we need to talk… sorry."

"Not when it's about to rain! Race ya inside," Gilbert said eccentrically, before grabbing Matthew's hand and pulling him along a little, soon releasing him and also disappearing into his home. Matthew, with a small wince followed by a sigh, followed the other nervously. He stopped at the threshold of the door, before taking shy steps inside. His violet eyes scanned the walls – they were adorned with paintings of what looked to be ancestors. Gilbert's home was a little _dark_, but it was also cosy, in a way; in a German, sort of way…

"U-Um, Gilbert?" Matthew called out, holding his petite hands up to his chest as he continued on through the hall way. He soon looked to his left where an archway led into a living room. Gilbert was there, sitting comfortably on the sofa with his knees drawn up to his chest. Matthew pursued, and quietly sat down next to the other without a single sound.

Silence lingered between the two for a moment – a silence so awkward that Matthew thought he could cut through it with a butter knife. However, fortunately, it was broken by Gilbert engaging the Canadian, "So, what was it you wanted?"

"Oh, um…," Matthew began, his voice small. "Why'd you leave so suddenly last night? Did you really cause that crash? And who's… who is that woman Francis spoke of? Gil… Gilbert, is everything okay…?"

Matthew immediately began to regret everything he had just asked when Gilbert stared at him with wide red, purple-ish eyes. Though, the albino soon began to breath when he casted his gaze away.

"I don't know you," he replied sharply, Matthew almost feeling as if a punch was directed his way. "I have no right to tell you, Mattie."

"You have the right to tell me if you caused that crash," Matthew then said, almost applauding himself for having such initiative. Usually he wouldn't have raised his voice by a tone or even talk back, so it was a real surprise to him. "You could have almost gotten me killed, Gilbert…"

"But I didn't, and I ended up carrying you to safety,"

"I wouldn't have even needed that if you weren't driving like a maniac!"

Everything went silent again, the heart in Matthew's chest beating a thousand miles an hour. Or, well, at least that's what it felt like.

"I… I was angry and I was just… distressed…," Gilbert replied, rubbing his hands together as he leant forward to rest his elbows on his legs, bowing his head softly. "I felt like I needed to escape, so I got in my work truck and just left… but it was raining that night, and I lost control of the wheel… I know, so un-awesome of me," he broke off with a sad laugh, before regaining his composure and continuing, "I realised I clipped a car, and when I regained my bearings from crashing into the building, I saw you collapse onto the bitumen road. Guilt tore through me immediately – I didn't mean to get someone hurt, so I had to get you to safety. And I did, the nurses instantaneously took you in and patched you up. But I knew there was going to be consequences…"

Matthew took a moment to take it all in, and he still didn't think he could. But he shook his head, reaching one hand out to softly grasp the albino's forearm where his thumb made soothing patterns along the pale skin for comfort.

"Why were you distressed, Gilbert?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he also leant forward, as if he was trying to make eye contact with the man before him. "Did it have something to do with Elizabeta?"

"Can we not speak of the she-devil? She's not awesome enough to be worth my time anymore," Gilbert said, a soft yet sad smile on his lips –as if he didn't even mean what he said. However, this only encouraged Matthew's curiousity more, but he wouldn't pry… yet.

"So, you fled from the hospital last night because you thought Antonio and Francis would hate you for causing that crash…?" Matthew then asked, or more so it being a statement.

"Not exactly," the other replied, turning his head to finally look at the Canadian. Matthew could see the hurt behind those very orbs. "I'm a criminal, not only because of what happened last night. You see, Matthew, there's a reason why I distant myself from you and anyone else except for my brother. It's because-"

Matthew cut in, "…because you've been hurt in the past? Did Elizabeta hurt you, Gilbert? Or is it because you didn't want to be apprehended by the police?"

"Nein," Gilbert replied, wearing a smile that Matthew deemed a smile that Lucifer would have worn moments before he fell from heaven. "I'm a murderer."

* * *

**A/N: Did I forget to mention this fic contains character death? ANYWAYS, this is the last chapter I'm able to post for about 2 weeks. I'll work on the third chapter during my flight to and from Japan, and also when I'm just hanging out in my room, so that means I may be able to post a chapter straight away after the holidays. c': **

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: I never got to work on this whilst in Japan/over the holidays, so I apologise for the slow update! Enjoy.**

* * *

_This was madness. What was Matthew thinking sticking around? What was he thinking shoving his nose in other people's business? What was he fucking THINKING to not see Gilbert as a threat?_

"Not so heroic now, am I?" Gilbert asked, laughing a lonely laugh. "You should have known to not expect much greatness from someone like me."

"I… barely know you, I didn't know what to expect," Matthew replied, his soft voice almost trembling from the amount of shock – not fear – he felt. It was either from extreme understanding or extreme stupidity, but he wasn't afraid of the other man, even after such a confession. Again, it only piped the Canadian's interest furthermore. It was almost as if he was in love with this man, and he had just wanted to know everything: Who did he murder? Why did he do it? Was it from drunkenness, pure rage or even bounty?

"You're too cute, you remind me of a bird I had once," the albino said, casting his gaze forward as he leant back in the sofa, his red eyes almost a glowing ruby as he stared at the fireplace. "He followed me around everywhere, and his feathers were the same colour as your blond tresses. He was adorable… just like you."

Matthew could feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he stared at Gilbert with widened lavender eyes, soon turning his head to face the other way in fear of the other noticing his reaction to such honey-sweet words.

"What, flustered?" a voice from behind Matthew sounded, sending chills running down his spine. "Shall I take responsibility?"

"N-No, I don't mean to bother you… I'm really sorry for being like this," the blond replied, bringing the bottom of his feet up to rest upon the edge of the sofa as his knees were pressed firmly against his chest. His hands reached for his face, in attempt to hide the fact that the closeness of the other and his verbal abuse was causing him to turn into a tomato. This was _hell_. Matthew didn't know how to handle situations like this.

"This isn't bothering me," Gilbert replied, his voice low and cool-like as he leant closer. "Awesome people such as myself aren't phased by such little things. So—oh… Matthew, why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not emotionally prepared for you to approach me so suddenly…," he stuttered, hands placed over his mouth which rendered his voice to get far. Though, Gilbert could still hear him seeing as the tips of their noses were practically touching.

"Well then, _try _and be a little awesome and get prepared," the albino said, his thick German accent almost like _music_ to Matthew's ears. Before he knew it, however, the blond's wrists were grabbed by the other and placed down into his lap. That's when one of Gilbert's hands reached to take hold of his chin softly and tilt his head up, their lips coming into contact. All the Canadian could do was flutter his beautiful eyes close and wait for the other to pull away, which wasn't instantaneously. The kiss seemed to go forever, as if time itself slowed down around the two. He couldn't even help the soft gasp that was muffled by the other's lips when he felt Gilbert's tongue trail along his bottom lip, soon entering. A quiet moan sounded at the back of Matthew's throat as he daringly allowed his own moist organ to dance around the man's who was currently ravishing him. However, before he knew it, it was all over.

Matthew's eyes opened slowly, just so he could stare into deep red ones that looked back at him with such confidence yet a glint of uncertainty. Gilbert slowly pulled away, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"How… awesome," he said, laughing a lonely laugh once more. "You did well, Birdie."

_What was with such the nickname?_

"W-What was that?" Matthew asked, not really sure of what answer he wanted to hear. But he didn't get it anyways when he heard heavy footsteps enter the living room. It was Ludwig.

"Brother, stop fooling around," the blond said sternly and – as always as Matthew guessed – seriously. "Pack your things and tell your friend he needs to leave."

"You could tell him yourself, West," Gilbert replied, opening his mouth to speak once more when Matthew (whom had been so out of character lately after that accident) cut in, "What do you mean, 'Pack your things?' Are you two leaving?"

"It's none of your business," Ludwig replied, looking at Matthew with uncertainty coldness in his sharp blue eyes, before Gilbert spoke up, "He's… right, Birdie, I think you should leave…"

Matthew's violet orbs turned to look back at Gilbert's red ones, the faint blush still upon his cheeks as his eyebrows furrowed the slightest in an abundance of annoyance for being pushed away after the other had done such a thing. He soon stood up, in avoidance of the other man's hand that reached out for him gently, swallowing the lump at the back of his throat, "I-I'm not just going to leave. You still haven't answered my question."

"Why do you care? It has nothing to do with you," the fair-haired male said, also standing up with an obvious hurt embedded in his features. "Do you really want to know about Elizabeta? Why I grow so defensive whenever someone mentions her name? It's because… she's my fiancée."

Matthew stared at the other with wide eyes, soon beginning to hate himself for getting caught up in this mess in the first place. He felt a pain in the middle of his chest and he felt the urge to cry… but he didn't. He refused to look weak in front of the other.

"So why'd you do such a lewd thing to me?!" he yelled back, which was still quiet for his small fracture of a voice, not wanting to receive the answer that was most likely what he'd receive – 'because he was bored' or 'I don't know'. "You're betrothed! You shouldn't be kissing others –"

"I _was_ betrothed," Gilbert cut in, his red eyes radiating a soft ruby colour once more in the dim light of the fireplace in this dark living room. "I found her on top of another man one night… then she broke up with me. This was months ago, she's—…. she's deceased."

The Canadian felt sick, not enough to purge the little food he had this morning, but enough to make him feel light-headed and dizzy from such outrageous news. Without even asking, however, he knew that she would have died because of Gilbert because of his confession about being a _murderer. _

"We were driving – taking her things to her mother's home after moving out – and… we were arguing about us. I stopped at a gas station to fill the car, and I accidentally spilt some petrol on the floor. I thought nothing of it because it always happens. I… I went inside the store to buy more smokes as she was having the last one in the bathroom out back. I was about to walk back to the car, but… but it exploded and my fiancée was caught right in the middle of it. I don't know but her cigarette ash must have hit the petrol I had spilt and caused that explosion. So it was _I _who killed her. It was _my_ fault. If I didn't get so angry as to pull over, or stayed calm to put the fucking thing in properly than none of that would have happened! I would have never been suspected by the police, I wouldn't have gotten Ludwig caught in this, I would have never met you for being so damn… so damn…!"

"Brother, that's enough," Ludwig cut in, his eyebrows burrowed in concern. He went over to the smaller male and placed his hand upon his shoulder in an attempt of comfort. The blond soon looked over his shoulder with a softer tone towards Matthew than his previous encounters with him, saying, "Please do not bother Gilbert furthermore."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…," Matthew started, but began to choke on his own words. He could practically feel the tears urging to come out. All he wanted to do was to be in Ludwig's position, tell Gilbert it wasn't his fault, tell him he's not a murderer for something like that, kiss him…

The blood rushed to his cheeks immediately after thinking something so inappropriate, so Matthew regained his composure and bowed his head a little before continuing, "I'll, um, I'll go. I'm sorry for getting involved. I won't show up in your lives again. Forgive me."

However he didn't receive an answer – as he wouldn't allow that – before he soon stood back up straight and escaped the brothers' home, _needing_ to get out of there. And it was then that for the first time in his life, Matthew had wished to be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The sun had gone down by now, the faint sound of the wall clock ticking as each second went by. Gilbert's room was only illuminated by the dim bedside table lamp and his curtains blocked out the scenery from outside as they were drawn. There was almost no sound except for that cursed clock and his soft breathing.

Standing up from the edge of his bed, Gilbert walked into his bathroom and to the sink so he could stare at his reflection that looked back at him. Was it him, or did his eyes look full of hurt? His pale skin physically showed hurt as scars littered his topless body, all from reckless decisions, getting into fights, abusive behaviour and self-mutilation from the belief that he'd be able to cut himself free.

Running a hand through his messy, white locks, Gilbert let out a heavy sigh as thoughts of Matthew began to fill his mind. What a gentle, kind soul that particular foreigner was. He was completely opposite to his brother, Francis. Francis was a flirtatious one; he often playfully teased, made suggestive gestures, slept around… all before he and Antonio got together.

The albino smiled sadly to himself, his red eyes shifting down to the sink that reflected the light from above him.

Francis always told Gilbert he leant more towards men rather than women. It was because 'girls were hard work', whilst guys were more in for the sexual side of things… especially Antonio, as he'd say to Gilbert's discomfort. But he was right, in a way. The Prussian just wasn't enough for Elizabeta—no… it wasn't that… she was in love with Roderich Edelstein. She had been in love with him for as long as she could remember, and Gilbert knew that. It's just that _he_ was the first one to ask her out, to ask her to marry… Elizabeta just couldn't say no, but she could cheat.

"Stop it," he said to himself, shaking his head free of thoughts in avoidance of feeling shitty all over again. He shouldn't have talked to Matthew like that. He was just curious, and he deserves to be. Gilbert was the one that dragged him into this huge mess, even going as far to kiss him. But, recalling that moment, the Canadian had lips of an angel… the same as Elizabeta's, almost. Just a bit more dried out and rough… but the shyness of them was almost addicting. He felt the same feeling when smoking his first cigarette, then his third when he became addicted.

With a sigh, Gilbert rolled his shoulders the slightest from the impending discomfort he felt in his joints, before turning around when he saw Ludwig's reflection in the mirror. The particular blond's blue eyes looked the other's body up and down with what seemed to be _sadness, _causing Gilbert to hug himself in attempt to hide his torso.

"What do you want?" the fair-haired male asked, casting his red eyes off to the side to stare at the glistening white tiles of his bathroom. "I was just about to take a shower."

"You're done packing?" Ludwig then asked, folding his muscled arms across his chest as he leant against the door frame, smiling gently.

"Yes."

"You packed lightly?"

"Ja, Ludwig."

"You'll be ready to leave first thing in the morning?"

"Why is it _you're_ the one asking stupid questions now? Yes, of course."

"Good," Ludwig said; a moment of silence lingering before he stood up straight and laughed a sad laugh. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking about her, aren't you? You haven't even moved on, yet you're placing your lips upon a man…"

"So what? I'm free to do what I want," Gilbert replied, shaking his head as if he was acknowledging the fact that Ludwig knew _less_ than him when it came to love. But, really, he knew that his younger brother was experienced in pretty much everything in life… even if he was super awkward when it comes to relationships. "Plus, it's not like it meant anything."

"For him to seek you out after you saved his life… Do you really believe that it meant nothing, especially to him?" the younger brother rebutted, not receiving an answer. "I'm not saying you should go back for him, I'm saying you should take responsibility for the things you do. I'm not going to be there for you in every aspect of your life, Gilbert, especially when it comes to something that you must decide for yourself."

The light above the brothers' heads flickered the slightest, causing both males to look up for a brief moment before making eye contact once more. Whilst Ludwig's face was more calm and collected, Gilbert's was red and defensive. That's when the younger brother decided to speak up once more, "And let's just put it this way: Don't break his heart like Elizabeta broke yours. I know I've said this many times, but she didn't deserve someone like you neither did she deserve the death that _wasn't_ caused by you. But what has happened has happened. You need to stop living in the past, Gilbert, and keep looking forward. Embrace the new love you find once we're out of this, but while we're fleeing this place, keep your mind on our motives."

"You're… the worst, I fucking love you," the older one admitted, allowing a single tear drop to roll down his flushed cheeks. "I'm so sorry for being a delinquent, for fucking up in everything I do. I'm sorry that _you're_ the one looking after me, and not the other around. I'm sorry for being such a useless older brother."

"Stop," Ludwig snapped. "Don't speak such nonsense. While it normally suits you, in situations like this, it doesn't. Oh, also, your boyfriend left this here…," the blond soon whipped out a phone from his back pocket before handing it over to Gilbert. "It must have fallen out of his pocket for something when he was leaving because it was in our hallway. I think you should find Francis' contact and give him a call – he's too scared of me to even imagine talking to me – tell him how Matthew left his phone here and if they want it, to meet us at the new café that's opening a few blocks away from the bank at 9am. If they don't come 30 minutes after the rendezvous time, they won't get it back because we're in a hurry. Good night."

"Ludwig, wait—" Gilbert began, but soon went quiet as the blond turned on his heels after regaining his serious demeanour and left. The albino sighed heavily, before looking down at the piece of technology in his hands. Mumbling some German to himself, the Prussian unlocked Matthew's phone and soon went through his contacts. Seeing a whole bunch of names he didn't recognise, he swallowed the lump at the back of his throat before entering his own number in. Soon after, however, he felt a wave of relief as a small smile came to be upon his lips. He really wondered if Matthew would give him a call… but that's wishful thinking. The Canadian would probably not, especially after being yelled at.

Dialling Francis' number, Gilbert held the phone up to his ear before he was greeted with a, "_Salut! I was just about to call you. You do realise you have someone else's' property in your hands, oui?"_

"Francis, it's me, Gilbert. Matthew left his phone here."

"_He did? Since when did he visit you? When he came home he simply told us the hospital did some paperwork and let him go, then he decided to go shopping," _he heard the Frenchman hum to himself in thought for a moment, before speaking up once more, "_He lied to me, didn't he?" _

"Ja… he did, Francis," Gilbert replied, looking up at his door to make sure his brother wasn't standing there to eavesdrop on their conversation. Honestly, Ludwig ought to know by now not to trust the albino to do exactly what he says. Perhaps Gilbert could tell Francis their plan to flee Frankfurt… the country if they have to, and that he may have just fallen the slightest for Matthew – that he refuses to leave without him, or more realistically speaking, without apologising. "We need to talk."

"_Oh? Even after our talk today? I thought you told me everything that was on your mind, Gilbert, why you were driving like a maniac and got my cute little Mattie hurt,"_

"Nein, there's more to this story than you think. _A lot_ more, _**mon cher**__._"

"_Is that so...?_ _Well then, entertain me if you will."_

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger? Hopefully. ;-; I feel as if I'm not really doing well with keeping my readers interested, although this is the first fanfic that I've kept consistent at. **

**Ahhh, I'm sorry, review?**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the slow update, I've been so busy lately and just haven't found the writer in me to actually work on this. But, I got it done eventually. So, enjoy!**

* * *

With his mouth full, Gilbert hummed with delight that was muffled by his closed lips. The cream he held was soon swallowed after he savoured the sweet taste, it going down his throat almost _smoothly_. However, since he had taken too much in, he gagged on some of the white substance and began coughing gently to himself, causing Ludwig to look down at him – a hand soon reaching to pat his back in a soothing manner.

"Are you alright?" the blond asked, cheeks dusted a soft pink from the amount of heat his body was currently excreting. The albino replied with a head nod, clearing his throat for a moment as he held the caramel Frappuccino that he had gotten from Starbucks, soon holding it out to his older brother.

"Ja, it's really good, have some," Gilbert said, straightening his short-sleeved, fully buttoned up shirt after his younger brother had taken the American beverage.

"I'm not really into this sort of stuff…," Ludwig replied, but he still took a sip through the straw of the cold, iced drink. He paused for a moment, allowing his taste buds to indulge in the taste, before shrugging his shoulders and swallowing. "Hm, it's okay – I quite like it,"

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, however he was cut off when his younger brother turned on his side so they were facing each other. "Hey, um… I need to make a phone call, stay here and wait for Matthew, or Francis, or whoever comes to get the phone back. Wait until I come back; don't go wandering off."

By now, Gilbert was sick of all the things his younger brother was telling him to do; it was like he was a teenager in school again. "_Okay_, just go. Gimme my drink back," he replied, soon snatching the Frappuccino out of the blond's hand to spoon at the cream once more just as Ludwig turned on his heels and began making his way down the street. "And don't take too long!" Gilbert yelled after him, "I'll get bored…"

He stared at Ludwig's back as the other walked away, the albino's red, almost purple eyes narrowing softly as a small smile crept up onto this lips. However, his moment of appreciation for the other was soon ended when he realised he shouldn't be flaunting so much in public, seeing as he _is_ wanted. So, with that thought it mind, he pressed himself up against the wall of Starbucks, Frappuccino in hand, and his head bowed down a little so the shade from his hat would be able to cover up most of his profile.

* * *

"Out-fucking-rageous, isn't it?" Francis said, his fingers curling tightly around the wheel of his boyfriend's car, seeing as the car that Matthew was in was destroyed during that accident. He had spent the night previously answering questions from the police and filling in heaps of reports, and somewhat failing to claim insurance. It was late and he was ready to sleep, only to have Gilbert call him using the Canadian's phone. The two hadn't gotten to bed until 3am that morning, and Francis was _forced_ to get up only a couple of hours later. "I can't believe even Feliciano is getting involved in this."

"I don't blame him," Antonio replied, sitting in the passenger seat, his hazel eyes looking at the slightly taller man that didn't seem very healthy at the moment – more sleep deprived. "They're in love, and they have been for a long time now."

"It's too bad Lovino can't see that then, oui?"

"Si," Antonio paused, however, humming gently to himself before speaking up once more, "No well… he does see it. He just hates Ludwig with a passion."

France bit his lip, before speaking up, "Why is that, though?"

"Lovino's a tough exterior, but on the inside he's cute and… and so cute!" the Spaniard went off in his little day dream as he had a fangirl scene for a moment, before he cleared his throat and simply laughed gently. "He just… hates Ludwig, because he stole Feliciano. That or he's just really protective of his brother.

"Hah, so protective that he _forbids_ them from seeing each other?"

"Lovi's apart of the Sicilian Mafia, you do realise. Feliciano, although can seem rather useless, is too. They hold very high positions – Lovino as the boss and Feliciano as the underboss of the Vargas clan. However, ever since Feliciano and Ludwig met, as Ludwig went to Sicily for a holiday a couple of years ago, they've been in love… and Feliciano's grown even more of a nuisance, according to Lovino," Antonio said gently, Francis diverting his blue eyes at the other when they stopped at the red light, the sun rays coming in through the window really making the Spaniard's deeply tanned, light brown skin almost _glow_. "The Vargas clan of the Sicilian Mafia haven't been doing so well, seeing as one of the most important men has been distracted. Not being available for _Cosa Nostra_, and such things. And, well, Lovino doesn't want that and has been blaming Ludwig for Feliciano's lack of mafia… ness."

With a sigh, Francis turned his gaze to the road again, going as the light turned green. The two sat in silence, Antonio reaching his hand over to gently rub his lover's thigh soothingly.

"Things will turn out, though," he said, smiling cheerfully. He unclipped his belt momentarily, before leaning over to kiss Francis on the cheek, strapping himself back in after he had done so. With the contagious smile now on Francis's lips, the Spaniard played with the sleeves of his sweater, knees brought up to his chest as he half leant against the door and his seat. "Oh, by the way, where's Matthew? I didn't see him this morning."

"He's gone to that optometrist store to get new prescription glasses," Francis replied, pulling in one of the car parking spots beside Starbucks, where he saw Gilbert sipping at a beverage and sitting on the pathway, up against the building, like a total lunatic. "Then to the bank, just to get out a cheque for the shit _we_ have to pay for the damages. I swear… Gilbert owes us a lot."

* * *

It was like a tongue twister for Matthew… the German language, that is. Such small words in English are so long when translated into German. However, he managed to get by whenever he focused and listened to what the lady on the other side of the bullet-proof glass was saying, and even replied with a "Ja," to one of her questions.

"Gedulden Sie sich bitte einen Augenblick," she then said, before getting up from her seat and disappearing around the back. Matthew sighed heavily, feeling a little uneasy in the stomach as he allowed his violet eyes to scan the bank that was filled with people this morning. Despite everything, his mind couldn't keep off Gilbert… and it was a pain in the _ass. _In the end, he sort of wished that he had never met the damn albino. It was like fate was playing its sick game and decided for all of this shit to happen _specifically_ to Matthew. Why not anyone else? _Why Matthew?_

It couldn't have been a sign… say, a sign to be someone great, someone appreciated. Thinking about it now, however, whenever Gilbert spoke to him Matthew felt… what was it? Whole? He didn't know, but all he knew was that he didn't feel like he was invisible, he felt like Gilbert's eyes were on _him_ as a living and breathing entity. Surely, Francis was one to notice him, but they're relatives! Though… there have been times when he was forgotten, like that time Francis never came back for him when he was in the hospital.

"Arrêter," he whispered to himself, shutting his violet eyes tightly as he decided to get his mind off of this topic. What's happened has happened, there's no use in whining about it. Instead, why not do something about it? It's obvious, and Matthew knew this peculiar feeling, but he liked Gilbert. Perhaps not loved as the two barely know each other, but his interest and caring nature for the other has really come alive. That's when he decided he _was_ glad the two had met, even if it only caused pain out of it – say, if they never got to see each other again.

At the realisation of something, Matthew's eyes slowly opened once more. His fingers ran along the smooth metal of his new glasses, before he pushed them up the bridge of his nose. _There is nowhere in hell he's letting Gilbert get away. _

The Canadian's eyes were caught by something, or well, a familiar looking person standing just outside of the bank. It was Ludwig, and he had a phone in his hand that was held up to his ear. It looked like he was waiting for someone… Gilbert, perhaps?

Just a few blocks away from the bank, coming opposite from where Starbucks – the newly opened coffee shop – a certain Italian was making his way down the street with a wide smile on his lips as the scarf around his neck blew in the wind the slightest alongside his somewhat long locks for a man.

"I'm getting closer," Feliciano said, the smile only widening as he displayed a row of straight, white teeth.

"_Are you?" _Ludwig replied rhetorically, laughing gently to himself obviously due to the other's overexcitement.

"Yes, I'm getting closer," the Italian replied. "Closer."

"_I don't see you," _

"I see you… I'm getting closer,"

"_Where are you coming from?" _Ludwig laughed again, just as the smaller man of the two said, "I'm close, Ludwig,"

"_What? I don't see you!"_

"I'm right here!" Feliciano finally exclaimed, not even bothering to hang up his phone as he jumped with excitement and wrapped his arms around Ludwig when the blond turned around to see where that voice had come from. "I'm here, I'm here!"

Ludwig couldn't help but chuckle to himself, his muscled arms wrapping around the other's small waist as he held him tightly. "Yes, you are, you're here," he said, his voice a little muffled due to being buried in Feliciano's neck where his scarf lay. "I'm so glad you're here."

"_I'm_ glad I'm here," the Italian replied, moving his head back to lock eyes with the beautiful blue orbs that stared right back at him. "I'm so happy…"

His eyes drooped, long eye lashes hanging ever so beautifully, before the pink folds of his lips parted slightly – leaning up, with his feet having to stand on their toes, to plant a kiss upon Ludwig's lips. The blond kissed back, just as softly, as he pulled Feliciano even tighter against him so they were practically up against each other. With a soft laugh leaving his lungs, however, Feliciano pulled away.

"You're still as beautiful as I remember you," he said, a hand reaching up to run through his lover's blond locks, still on his tip-toes as he pressed their lips against each other, smiling. Ludwig bit his lip a bit, before smiling against the Italian's as his hands snuck down to run over the roundness of Feliciano's ass. His fingers curled as he pulled the other closer, causing Feliciano to gasp in anticipation and frustration from the much overdue sex these two have been needing to put into play. _So much tension…_

The two pulled away, however, at the realisation of the extreme display of public affection. Plus, it wouldn't exactly be good if someone sprouts a hard-on when they're both so far away from Feliciano's hotel room or Ludwig's car that was parked in the secluded underground parking lot just a few blocks away from Starbucks now, wouldn't it?

Despite that being the case, they were soon torn from their glances when someone had exited the bank, approaching the two. To Feliciano, the man looked like someone who could have been Francis' child, or… the cute version of him, but to Ludwig, it was Matthew Williams.

"L-Ludwig, sorry to bother you—" the Canadian was cut off, his words getting caught in his throat, before he pocketed the cheque he had been needing to get into his black, skinny jeans. Wearing his usual oversized jumper, the one with the maple leaf, his Converse shoes made soft sounds against the concrete as he approached the two. "U-Um, I'm sorry about—uh… I need to talk… to G-Gil—"

"Gilbert," Ludwig said, cutting the other off. With a nod, Matthew's cheeks dusted into a fine pink hue, before his violet eyes noticed turned to make contact with the brunette that was with the German.

"Buongiorno! I'm Feliciano Vargas, it's nice to meet you!" the Italian exclaimed excitedly, before approaching the smaller blond out of the two and pulling him into a hug for having familiarity with Ludwig. The Canadian was definitely caught off guard, and was even met with a kiss on the cheek before regaining his bearings. "Ve, Ludwig, you have such cute friends!"

Matthew only blushed deeper, finding himself completely out of place at the moment. Surely, he was used to being kissed on the cheek since Francis would greet him like that occasionally, but having that done by a stranger made his insides twist into a knot.

"I'm… I'm Matthew," he eventually spoke up, his pink lips curving into a shy yet genuine smile. It was nice to meet someone so bright and bubbly after such events. Everything had been so serious and just… tiring.

"Who do you belong to?" Feliciano then asked, but Matthew wasn't able to respond when Ludwig spoke up in his place instead, "Francis."

"Ve, really? Thought so! You two look strangely alike, well… except, Matthew almost looks like a woman," the Italian then commented, laughing cheerfully to himself which caused an awkward glance from both blond's. "But… they're both very pretty."

"How do you two know each other?" Matthew asked, playing with the sleeves of his oversized hoodie, his long hair blowing gently in the soft wind that carried along.

"You can say he's like my big brother," Feliciano replied, smiling softly. His bright brown eyes narrowed gently, however, as he turned his gaze to the ground. "I grew up with Roderich, though."

"Roderich…?"

"Roderich Edelstein," the Italian paused for a moment, lifting his gaze as he smiled brightly. "But that's another story. You were here for Ludwig…?"

Matthew's face lifted, remembering that was the sole reason why he had approached the couple, "Oh yes! Um, Ludwig—"

"Gilbert, yes," the taller blond said, Matthew furrowing his eyebrows momentarily as it was really being a pain in the ass to keep being cut off. But, he allowed the other to continue, "I guess I should apologise for being so hard yesterday. I didn't exactly have my head on straight—"

"Plus! Ludwig's always stern, so don't take to heart if he starts to yell," Feliciano inputted, pulling a face that looked like he knew what he was talking about. "You should try doing some training with him! It usually involves no lunch until running enough laps…" The brunette looked off to the distance as if he had post-traumatic stress disorder. However, Ludwig soon turned his attention back to Matthew.

"I was talking to Gilbert last night. I told him to focus on what we need to do, and to focus on you once we're out of this danger. So, I thought… you deserve to know what's going on," Ludwig spoke with seriousness in his voice, like always, and it caused Matthew's heart to jump into his throat. "He's wanted, as you know, for crimes other than that crash. Although it wasn't his fault for his fiancée's death, he was responsible for the death of another. Feliciano's… guardian, as a child. Roderich Edelstein. Out of rage, they fought, but Gilbert went a little too far and fled the scene…" Matthew noticed Feliciano looking down at his feet silently, but definitely sadly, and it was then that Ludwig reached his hand out to hold the Italian's for comfort. "I'm trying to get him out of the country so we can start our lives anew, elsewhere, and Feliciano's here to help. We'll… we'll explain the details later, though, because we can't speak in public. I can say this, however: you have Gilbert's attention, not just his idle curiousity. He isn't a bad guy, he's just very passionate about his feelings, so once he feels something… he feels it greatly. I can sense the chemistry between you two like no other, so… try to make something out of this, okay?"

Matthew's words were caught in his throat. _So Gilbert is a murderer. _But, that doesn't exactly make him a bad guy… His actions were bad, but his morals were not. The Canadian knew what it's like to have such overflowing feelings that it's so hard to keep them in control sometimes – and there have been times where Matthew has been left to cry his heart out to Francis because he hates himself, or hates how invisible he is to the world… how much of a nobody he was. He could disappear tomorrow, and no one would know. Well, that's what he believed, at least. But he was glad that Ludwig was on his side with Gilbert that they wouldn't just pass up a possible romance. _This was real, this could actually happen. _

"I understand, and I… I want to help, allow me," Matthew said, speaking up once more before Ludwig was given the chance to agree or disagree. "I'm employed by the government; I work in the goddamn hospital for Christ's sake. Gilbert's records are there; I can steal them, or at least forge them. That way, we can make a false identity for him and _erase_ Gilbert Beilschmidt completely from the health records. Then, we just need to erase his identity from the actual government."

"That's where I come in, _but we can't speak here_," Feliciano said, his eyes looking around. To their luck, no one was walking by to eavesdrop on their conversation. "I think we should round up your brother and come back to my hotel room. We can speak there. Luckily enough, it's big enough for a couple of people to stay. So, Matthew, you can sleep with us if it's to Francis' consent."

"This is a change. Since when have you grown so serious?" Ludwig asked, turning his gaze to Feliciano as he smiled to himself softly. The simple question had caused a contagious smile for Matthew, and a loud laugh by Feliciano. His cheeks dusting a soft pink, however, the Italian also smiled gently, looking up at the rather tall male. His hand that held the blond's squeezed gently, before he had finally replied with, "Ever since you said you needed me, Ludwig..."

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**A/N: Was this a good spot to end it? I don't know. Hopefully everything makes sense! Anyway, review please. (:**


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